


sway with me, don't speak

by anonlymous



Series: October Challenges 2019 [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Has Anxiety, Anxiety, Beaches, Dancing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Supportive Magnus Bane, the most self indulgent thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-14 20:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20606681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonlymous/pseuds/anonlymous
Summary: Magnus has watched Alec shoot demons from hundreds of feet away, sure-handed with his bow. He has watched Alec defy everything the world ever told him to seek his own happiness, without the slightest hint of fear. He has watched Alec fight his possessed parabatai, then stare death in the face with an arrow in his ribcage, hands still steady as rock.A Shadowhunter’s hands don’t shake.Alexander’shands don’t shake.





	sway with me, don't speak

**Author's Note:**

> For day 1 of flufftober (dancing) and whumptober (shaky hands)

Magnus hears the soft thud of the door, the noise of shoeless feet padding toward the kitchen, but not his husband’s voice. Considering Alec almost always greets him with a kiss or hello, it’s unusual enough to cause concern. Magnus glances up from the boiling pot of spaghetti alla carbonara and sees Alec leaning against the doorframe. 

He just looks – off. Everyone has bad days, but Magnus hasn’t seen this kind of unhappiness on his face in months. “Are you alright, Alexander?” 

Alec looks up to meet his eyes. “Yeah. It’s just - I got news today about a mission in New York, one where a lot of Shadowhunters were killed.” 

Heart flying to his throat, Magnus blurts out, “Isabelle? And Jace? Are they alright?”. But logically, he knows they can’t be dead. Magnus knows the kind of man his husband is, knows the ferocity with which he loves. If anything were to happen to them, he would be there in a second, raising hell on whatever hurt his family. He wouldn’t be standing here still whole.

Alec shakes his head, confirming his thoughts. “Only Jace was on the mission, and he’s alright. But for second there, I thought – you know.” 

“I do,” Magnus says slowly. The Lightwoods are his family now too, and he understands the complete terror Alec feels at losing them. And just as importantly, he can understand – or at least can guess – how much being unable to protect them is what’s bothering Alec. “But you’re alright? You’re sure?” 

Alec nods, and Magnus is about to turn back to the pasta when he sees Alec’s hands. He has them fisted by his sides and almost out of sight, but they’re shaking. 

Magnus has watched Alec shoot demons from hundreds of feet away, sure-handed with his bow. He has watched Alec defy everything the world ever told him to seek his own happiness, without the slightest hint of fear. He has watched Alec fight his possessed parabatai, then stare death in the face with an arrow in his ribcage, hands still steady as rock. 

A Shadowhunter’s hands don’t shake. _Alexander’s_ hands don’t shake. 

Unintentionally, almost instinctively, his magic scans Alec for injuries, just to ensure there’s no physical wound. And there isn’t, of course. This isn’t the kind of pain Magnus can’t fix with a potion and quick healing spell. So what he does instead is open a Portal, and step forward to take Alec’s trembling hands in his own. “Follow me, my love?”

Alec lets Magnus lead him into the portal, and when the warm sea air breezes over them Magnus can see him visibly relax a little. They’d visited this island just once, on their honeymoon, and both of them had fallen in love immediately. So of course, Magnus bought it. It’s a breathtakingly beautiful place - the air is clearer, the world seems stiller, and most importantly, Alicante seems so far away.

Wordlessly, Magnus lays down on the warm white sand, and Alec lays next to him. His breathing is still shallow, his hands still aren’t steady, but he tucks himself into Magnus’s side and, as Magnus rubs his back soothingly, slowly starts to relax. At first Magnus murmurs little reassurances, “'it’s alright, my love, they’re alright' and 'You’re okay, I’ve got you', but as Alec’s breathing calms he stops and becomes silent. 

They stay like that for a long time - not speaking or moving, just breathing together, listening to the waves and watching the stars. 

What feels like hours later, Alec sits up, “Thank you. Thank you for knowing what I needed.” He gives Magnus a soft smile, and the tenderness in his expression is almost too much to bear.

“Of course.” Magnus squeezes his hand in silent understanding. He knows exactly what Alec means, all the things he doesn’t need to say aloud for Magnus to understand. _Thank you for treating me like I’m neither fragile nor made of stone. Thank you for seeing me, my jagged parts and worst fears, and loving me anyway. Thank you for being here with me._

Now a little more cognizant of their surrounds, Alec is looking around and seems to be quite pleased by what he sees. “I really don’t want to go back yet. This is so much nicer than Alicante.” 

Magnus laughs. “Careful, I think that’s blasphemy. But if you want to stay longer, that can be arranged.” With a flick of his fingers, he conjures an old record player onto the sand beside them. He’s rather pleased with his idea, and can’t understand why Alec is giving him a funny look. “What?”

“Nothing.” But Alec’s smile makes it very clear it’s not nothing, and Magnus glares until he continues. “Okay, it’s just, you’re such an old man sometimes. A record player, really?” 

Magnus can do nothing but gape for a moment. He buys his husband a beach, he cuddles him until he calms, he brings them music, and this is what he gets? “Old man? Well, come and dance with me then, and see which one of us has more grace.” 

Shaking his head and laughing, Alec accepts the challenge, rising and offering Magnus a hand. They dance in a slow waltz, and while Alec is better here than he’s ever been at the balls in Idris, both of them know no one can hold a candle to Magnus. Still, he’s a little too distracted trying to notice whether Alec has fully calmed – and perhaps by the way his dastardly cheat of a husband keeps kissing him – to properly brag. 

Eventually, their movements can no longer be called dancing, not when they’re simply stepping from side to side and sneaking in slow kisses. They sway in each other’s arms all night long, and the music plays on.


End file.
